Page 78 of Because of Dylan

River narrows her eyes, raises a hand and points at herself. I laugh. “Okay. It’s a lot like talking to you, except it’s a guy with a bunch of degrees who does this for a living, and …”

“And?” She nudges me with a knee when I say nothing else.

I inhale deep, the air crisp and pine scented. “And he’s a stranger. It didn’t matter if he liked me or not, if he judged me or not. I could walk away at any time, and no one would know.” I shift on the bench so I can look at her face-to-face. “I was afraid. I was afraid you’d be disgusted and stop being my friend.”

River is shaking her head even before I finish speaking. “Never. I would never be disgusted. It’s not your fault. None of it was your fault. How could you think that?” Her tone is a little hurt.

This honesty and trust thing is not hurting only me. “River, you have to understand. I’m disgusted with myself. Why wouldn’t you be? Why wouldn’t anyone?”

She grabs my hand. I drop my feet to the grass. “If I had told you the exact same things you told me, would you be disgusted with me? Blame me and walk away?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why would you think that of me? And more importantly, why would you think that of yourself? Don’t you deserve the same kindness you would extend me?”

Do I? My chest constricts, my body wants to fold into itself in rejection of her words. The old voices come back to haunt me.

Nobody loves you.

No one cares.

You’re bad.

I squeeze my eyes shut as if by closing them I could also shun the words that have plagued me my whole life.

Lies. They’re all lies. I know this. Why do I believe them?

Nobody loves you.

River loves me. My father loves me. My brother and sister love me.

No one cares.

River cares. My father cares. Tommy. Lucas. Even Dylan cares.

You’re bad.

I’m not. I’m good. I’m a good person.

I rebuke the hurtful words I grew up with. I replace them with new words. Words that are true.

I open my eyes. “If you had asked me that a few weeks ago, the answer would have been no. But now, in this moment, I can say yes. I deserve kindness. I deserve better. I deserve more.”

“You do. And I will be there to remind you.”

“I’ll need that.” I’m not foolish enough to think that all is well, and all my brokenness is fixed. I may never be completely healed. But I have mended a few small pieces here and there. Now I just have to hold on to those mended pieces and patch a few more.

Chapter Thirty-Five

I turnmy illegal space heater on, sink into my bed, and add an extra blanket. It’s freezing today. I’m not looking forward to going to work at the bar tonight. I have three hours before I need to leave, but first, I want to give the therapist a call.

I adjust my earbuds, log in, and click the link to call him. The laptop screen glare is the only light in my room.

I close my eyes and wait. It rings once, twice. He answers.

“Good night.” His voice has an instantaneous calming effect on me. I’ve grown used to this.

“Hi.” I bite a nail. Pull my hands away and press them against my stomach, trying to squash the butterflies.

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